Dating After Breast Cancer Surgery

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Crazy?

“Are you a little crazy by chance?” the What’s App message scrolls across my screen. It’s from a 31 year old Tinder chap who I’ve been chatting to. He works in TV, seems quite nice.
“No, I’m completely mentally normal. Why?” I write back.
“Just asking a question. You sure?”
“Am lovely. Don’t be so rude,” I say.
“Ha. Why do you write?” He asks.
“For the normal reasons. There is nothing wrong with me. Except my burning talent,” I tell him.
“Burning talent?”
“Yeah. That needs to be expressed through Writing,” I say. Seems perfectly clear to me.
“What do you do for work?” he asks.
“Work at a Theatrical Agency, looking after actors,” I tell him.
“Explains a lot. :)” he says. “Can you send me a recent picture?”
“The ones with my kitten are recent,” I say, sending one. I’m wearing an orange, red and turquoise zebra striped dress and an orange kitten is sprawled across my lap. “These are very recent,” I attach one in my orange dress with the peacock feather, which you can see on the ‘About Me’ section of this blog.
“You like bright colours,” he says.
“There’s nothing wrong with that is there?” I say.
“No. Just noticing. Observing,” he replies.
This whole chat is starting to annoy me. “Am pale with dark hair. Look good in red and orange. Is not illegal!”
“I know. Just saying,” the message comes back.
“And what is your Point?” I say.
“There does not have to be a point. Just saying.”
“Look: if you don’t like red and orange am sure there are plenty of other ladies,” I say.

Haven’t heard back from that one but if he already thinks I’m crazy before we’ve even met and he doesn’t like red & orange clothes & kittens, its a bit of a non-starter. Possibly my preference for bright colours makes me look mentally disordered but they suit me and it’s summer and my mood is up. If this chap wants someone who wears all black all summer then I’m not the one for him. And I look good in red and orange. Or I think I do. Once my mood drops I’ll be wearing black and navy all the time, so we’ll see if the boys prefer that. If I can drag myself out of the house to meet anyone that is.

In sad news, the Iceman has returned to Iceland. He messaged last night to say that he’s back home and happy to be reunited with the Iceboys. He’d really missed them. No doubt they were sharing a family bucket of Rekjavik Fried Puffin at the time. So that is good for him and the Iceboys but sad for me.

It’s not all doom and gloom though: there are plenty more boys to work through. Just need to secure a date with one of them…